


And the Ideal, Drowning in Mud

by vogue91



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP, Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst, Break Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 20:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15080663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: Drop after drop.That’s how Kota had imposed himself to do, drop after drop.He opened a bottle, he inhaled the sake’s or vodka’s or rum’s or tequila’s scent for a while, then he put the cap back on. Then he opened it again and drank only one sip.He thought he could make it for a while, like this.





	And the Ideal, Drowning in Mud

Drop after drop.

That’s how Kota had imposed himself to do, drop after drop.

He opened a bottle, he inhaled the sake’s or vodka’s or rum’s or tequila’s scent for a while, then he put the cap back on. Then he opened it again and drank only one sip.

He thought he could make it for a while, like this.

But a sip after the other the bottles were empty, and the money were scarce, and he found himself nicking a few shochu’s bottles which were only useful to burn his throat and kill his mood, until he fell asleep on the floor of his studio flat, dirty and the air thick with the smoke of too many cigarettes.

How long could that life go on?

And yet he had tried, he definitely had.

He had graduated in time, he had found a good job at a respectable firm.

His relationship with Kei was blissful, so much that he had often thought his life was wonderful.

He knew it wasn’t going to last; he should’ve predicted that, he should’ve put a stop the the euphoria of the immature child convinced the world was at his feet, and realize that there’s no such thing as a happy life.

There had been that shortfall, and his co-workers had been way too good in blaming it all on the newbie.

There had been an internal questioning, and then a verdict he didn’t deserve.

There had been the layoff and he being escorted to the front door, his eyes low and a wish to scream which he couldn’t satisfy.

Because six months before, when it had all started, he still had a dignity to keep.

From there everything had slipped into an abyss where he couldn’t see the bottom, and that was how he had ended up in the current situation.

With that resume stained by a fault he didn’t have, no one had risked hiring him.

At first he went around taking interview after interview, wearing his best smile, the one which had soon disappeared from his face.

Kei had helped. Or, at least, he had tried.

He had let him move in, he hadn't make him pay for anything, he kept submitting job offers to him and he went along with his bad moods whenever he had a door slammed in his face.

In the end Kota hadn't stood that situation anymore.

He remembered he had gotten back home one night, after yet another rejection, and to have lingered in front of the open cabinet before grabbing a bottle of sake.

He had never been much of a drinker, not until then, but in an hour or so the bottle was empty and he felt better.

When Kei had gotten back home they had had a nasty fight, and Kota had gotten so much over his limit that he had slapped him.

One slap, nothing else.

But the next day he had gathered his stuff and had left, Kei looking at him and crying, trying to justify what he had done and telling him that without a job there was nowhere he could go.

Kota had gotten even more irritated for that comment, and hadn't bothered replying.

With what little money he had left in his back account he had paid the first month of rent for that studio apartment he hated, but that he had had to settle for.

He managed to found a few part-time jobs from time to time, and that was enough to keep the landlord at bay, the man seemingly stalking his door looking for rent money he almost never had.

As soon as he had money in his wallet he ran to the conbini, he grabbed the first bottle he could fine and got back home, starting to drink until alcohol annihilated his senses, until he managed to laugh even at his condition, until it wore him out and made him fall asleep, and he was forced to thank sake or vodka or rum if he managed not to have any nightmare.

Kei went to see him.

Too much, for his liking.

Every time Kota told him he shouldn’t come back and every time the younger ignored him, as if attracted by the pitiful state the other was in, as if Kota was a mission for him.

And Yabu hated him for that, he hated the look in his eyes, that pity which made him always feel useless and insignificant, and disgusting and unworthy of his compassion.

But he had never raised a finger on him again, he couldn’t.

If he told him to leave and let him be, if he told him to never come back again, it was so that he wouldn’t have left him those images burned in his mind, because this wasn’t how he wanted to be remembered, not by the man he couldn’t help but still loving.

He opened the closest sake bottle, wincing when he realized it was empty.

He nervously threw it against the wall in front of him, breaking it to pieces.

And then he cried, because there was nothing else he could do.

He wanted to put an order to his life. He wanted to go back to a few months before, when everything was easy, he wanted to go back to Kei’s apartment and hold him tight, see a smile on his face and being able to tell him everything was going to be fine, that there was nothing he should’ve worried about.

He wished he could’ve been enough of a man to make him happy, nothing else.

Instead he was closed up into that vicious circle, inside that stinky apartment outside which all the dreams he had to give up on laid, prey to a poisoned mind and houses of cards destroyed by alcohol and by his inadequacy.

The road to reach that much desired happiness was closed for him now, and he knew there was no coming back.

He grabbed his phone, staring at Kei’s number for a long while before deciding to call.

He shouldn’t have, because he knew it wasn’t fair, because he had promised to himself he was never letting him see him like that, because he had sworn he was going to keep away from him, letting the younger being able to forget him, but he just couldn’t.

The phone rang for a while, and he was about to give up and getting desperate again when he finally heard Kei’s voice.

“Kota?” he asked, hesitatingly, almost as if he couldn’t really believe he was at the other hand of the phone.

“Hi, Kei.” the elder mumbled slowly, breathing deeply. “Sorry if I'm bothering you. It’s just that...” he swallowed, chewing on his lower lip. “I wanted to hear your voice.” he told him, his voice hoarse, close to crying again.

There was a moment of silence, then the other replied.

“Are you home?” he asked, practical.

“Yes, I'm... I'm here.”

“Fine. Wait for me, I'm coming.” he told him, dry, then he hanged up before the elder could tell him not to, as it often happened.

But Kota had no intention to, not that night.

He got up from the ground, slowly, swaying toward the kitchen.

There was just one bottle of shochu left. Of poor quality, even.

There was nothing else he could drink and there wasn’t a yen in his wallet to go out and buy something.

Kota was tired.

He sighed, then he started on his ritual again.

Drop after drop.

But, even like that, the bottles dried up all too soon.

 

~

 

Kei was sitting at the edge of the couch.

It was worse than he remembered.

The last time he had been there, he had realized that Kota at least made an effort to keep it tidy.

Now there were clothes spread throughout the whole living room, ashtrays which looked like they hadn't been emptied in days.

And empty bottles. Everywhere, empty bottles.

Kota sat on the floor, his legs crossed.

He stared at a tear in the carpet, absorbed, as if wondering when it had appeared.

Inoo felt like crying.

He was drunk, it was obvious, and from the moment he had opened the door he hadn't said a word. He had just kissed him, letting him taste the sharp flavour of alcohol on his lips, and Kei had had to struggle not to gag.

“Why did you call me, Ko?” he asked, his voice tired.

He tried not to be too harsh on him, he had tried from the beginning.

He had never commented on his being constantly drunk, having given up on finding a new job or having come to live in that place.

Kei had never said a thing, but he had never believed the elder could’ve gotten into this state.

And not because of some unconditional trust in him, but only because he knew what they both felt, and he understood how his mental state was at times like these, and that was why he had thought it was going to be a temporary situation.

No, he didn’t trust Kota, even less in this state.

Faith in mankind was a gift he was yet to receive, especially since at the first troubles the man he loved had proven he couldn’t get over it, not with him.

Yabu shrugged and kept fiddling with the carpet.

“I told you, I wanted to hear your voice. And I wanted to see you. I... last time I threw you out. I'm sorry, Kei.”

Oh, Inoo remembered that perfectly.

He remembered Kota’s yells, he remembered having been afraid he was going to hurt him, and he remembered having left that place with an annihilating sense of defeat.

He got up, sighing.

“It doesn’t matter. It didn’t bother me, I...” he bit his lip, closing his eyes for a second. “You told me not to come, it’s been my fault for not listening, Ko.” he said, going to take a trash back under the kitchen’s sink and starting to tidy up.

He couldn’t help it. He felt suffocating inside that apartment, as if the walls were closing around him.

As if, thrown away every bottle and every remnant of alcohol, Kota could sober up all of a sudden.

“You should try to keep it tidier, Ko.” he told him then, smiling, as if his suggestion was casual, as if the other had nothing else to worry about.

“I try, Kei. I try to keep it tidy.” the other replied, managing to stand up after a few attempts. “It’s just that I'm a little tired tonight, that’s why there’s such a mess. I'm sorry. Let it be, ill deal with it later.” he said, trying to take the bag from his hands.

Kei firmly grabbed his wrist, pushing him away.

“It’s not a problem, I can put some order.” he looked around the room, licking his lower lip, discouraged. “I’ll tell you what, how about you go take a shower while I keep working here?” he suggested, trying to keep the smile on his face.

Kota seemed to think about it for a moment, and then he nodded.

“Okay, I’ll go.” he hesitated. “Thank you, Kei-chan.” he added, caressing his face and heading toward the bathroom.

The caress made Kei feel like crying.

It had been such a daily thing once, and he used to like it so much.

Now he was almost disgusted by it, and he didn’t want to feel that why.

He couldn’t loathe the touch of the man he loved, he didn’t want it to be that way. He wanted to get back the Kota he had fallen in love with, the one who didn’t drink, the one who still had a dignity left to save.

It wasn’t because he didn’t care about his issues that he had no problems going to that squalid apartment, it was because he was clinging onto the hope that that man was still there, that he could’ve still come back to him, that they could still love each other like they had before.

He sighed, and went on throwing away bottles and cigarette’s stubs.

He was willing to stand, more and more, stand the smell of alcohol, stand the lack of lucidity from Kota and that wall the elder had built between himself and the world.

Perhaps it was true, in the end one should hurt to get what he wanted.

Kei wondered how much pain he should’ve endured still, what sight he should’ve witnessed, before he could find again his happiness with Kota.

 

~

 

He felt better.

Yes, he definitely did.

The shower had made him recover, partially at least, form the sake he had drunk that night.

And now, while he looked himself in the slightly opaque mirror, he tried to tell himself he had to fight that wish to drink more, to cloud his mind again, fight the wish to dream a dreamless dream, to numb his feelings.

He washed his face with cold water, then he went back to the other room.

Kei was done throwing away all he could and had started picking up clothes.

Kota blushed a little, getting closer and grabbing his wrist, as to say to let it go.

The younger hesitated for a moment, but in the end he caved.

They sat on the couch, staring at each other as if they were trying to read the other.

In the end, it was Yabu who talked first.

“I'm sorry I made you come. It’s just that...” he sighed, brushing a hand through his still damp hair. “I miss you, Kei. I really do.” he said, torturing his lips with his teeth and his hands with his nails, which the younger didn’t miss.

“Then come back home, Kota.” he replied, exasperated. He felt like he had made the same speech too many times, and that he didn’t want to fight a lost cause anymore. “This is not your home, you... you can't live like this. You can't keep destroying yourself. You can't keep drinking.” he said, and he realized too late how much his words sounded like an accusation.

Yabu blushed, standing up.

“Well, I'm sorry! I didn’t ask to get sacked for a mistake I didn’t do, I didn’t ask not to be hired anywhere else just because of a prejudice! And I didn’t ask to get this goddamn addiction!” he yelled at his, raising his voice too much, adding up to his desire to drink, his desire to be left alone, sit in a dark corner of the room and get drunk to the point of forgetting his own name.

Kei arched an eyebrow.

He bit on his tongue a couple of times, trying to hold back. But he just couldn’t.

“No one forced you, Kota. No one poured sake down your throat. You could’ve dealt with it another way, you could’ve sought help. So now don’t come and play the victim, because even though you’ve suffered a wrongdoing you’re the one who chose his own road.” he told him, his voice way too calm for the anger he actually felt.

Yabu breathed in deeply.

Faster and faster.

Then he got close to Kei, forcing him to stand, bringing a hand under his chin.

He ignored his groan of pain, he had too much rage in his body.

“Do you really think I didn’t try?” he hissed. “Do you think I’ve thrown myself on alcohol because I like it, because I felt like ruining my life?” he went on, seeing a shadow of fear in Kei’s eyes and not bothering with it. “I’ve tried to say it hadn't been me to the interviews. I’ve also tried to say that to you, and you’ve always said it didn’t matter, that I was going to get my life and my reputation back, but not once you’ve said you believed me. I’ve felt like I was in a room full of people, screaming off the top of my lungs what I thought and what they had done to me, and no one to even raise his eyes. I’ve felt like trash, Kei.”

He let him go all of a sudden, making him fall back on the couch.

Then he walked around the room, opening the cabinets’ doors compulsively, aware that there was nothing to drink, but still searching everywhere because he wanted something, he needed it.

He had never spoken to Kei like that.

He had never told him how he had actually felt, because he knew that the younger had always acted with the best intentions in mind.

He threw a look at him and found him still on the couch, tears streaming down his face.

He felt sorry for him, but not as much as he did for himself.

“I didn’t want to ignore your problems, Kota.” he heard him say, his voice feeble. “I just wanted... I wanted to help you believe everything was going to be okay. And it can still be, we can still...”

The elder interrupted his search, getting back close to him and putting his hands on his shoulders.

“What, Kei?” he screamed, seeing him cry. “What can you and I do? There’s nothing left to save, can't you see that? This is who I am, and this is what I'm going to be for the rest of my life. I can't go back living into your nice and respectable apartment and pretend I’m looking for a good job, when I already know no one’s going to hire me. And most of all I can't keep sleeping in the same bed as you and see that pitiful stare, just because you think you’re better than me!” he closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again he tried to keep his voice in check. “Now leave, Kei. Go away from this place and don’t come back. I shouldn’t have called you here tonight, I...” he took a deep breath. “I don’t want to see you ever again.”

The look on Kei’s face was the same, if not worse, to the one he had had when he had slapped him.

And then he stopped crying, as if the astonishment was greater than sadness.

And he left.

As he had arrived, he left.

Kota kept still for a long time. He was alone now.

Perhaps, that’s what he wanted. For sure, it was what he deserved.

He looked around, miserably.

He couldn’t even cry, he didn’t feel like getting desperate.

He wanted to forget what had just happened.

He wanted to drink.


End file.
